Closer Than We Thought
by Aqua Lion
Summary: Ken's take on D3 and beyond. Just how much is the neglected Duck hiding? *slash warning*
1. Getting Settled

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Prologue: Getting Settled 

_Very lengthy notes from the author- Warning. THIS IS SLASH. (Well... it's going to be.) If you don't like slash, don't read it. If you don't like it but read it anyway, that's not my fault, please don't bother to review saying that you don't like slash, because you've had fair warning and such a review is only wasting your time. And especially don't review by first acknowledging that you were warned there would be slash but you read it anyway and you still don't like slash. (Could I say 'slash' any more times?)_   
_*smiling* But I didn't really need to bother writing that, because I know that there's not a _single_ Duck fan here who would do something like reading a slash fic just to post an anti-slash review. (In other words, to that single Duck fan—_you know who you are_—you've been warned. A lot.) Oh well. Other than general slash-bashing, any feedback is appreciated, positive, negative, whatever. ^_^ Disney belongs to the Ducks... erm, wait, I don't think that's quite right. Starts at the beginning of D3. Ken's POV, and in this story it actually won't change._   
_Dedication (since when do I dedicate fics? *shrug*) to Star and Victory Thru Tears. You rock. ^_^_

***** 

September 2, 1996   
My mom gave me this journal just before I left for school. She said I should write down everything that happens this year, and someday I'll be glad I did. Well, if she says so, I guess it can't hurt. But writing isn't exactly my favorite pastime, nor am I any good at it. 

Where to start, where to start. I've got plenty to say. Never let it be said that school with the Ducks isn't interesting. 

Orientation was today. The original Ducks all had the bright idea of skating to the assembly. It would've worked fine, too, if Goldberg could skate. But he can't, so seven Ducks and a curtain all ended up tangled on the stage. Right in the middle of the Dean's speech! He wasn't too pleased. 

But I think hauling the whole team to his office was a bit extreme. They weren't _trying_ to crash his speech. (Well, I hope not, that sounds like exactly the sort of thing they would do, though. But they can't prove it!) And the five of us out in the audience had nothing to do with it. 

Ducks fly together and Ducks die together, I guess. That's okay with me, as long as Charlie doesn't get us killed too often. 

The talk with the Dean went... interestingly. (Butchered grammar there, I'll bet. I told you I can't write!) First he gave us this really odd speech about ants, which freaked me out a good deal. (Along with the rest of the team. Russ, naturally, couldn't resist a wisecrack, which shut him up before he could get too weird on us.) Then he gave us a less odd, but more annoying, speech about how we'd better win, because basically the school doesn't want us here in the first place. 

If they don't want us here, why do we have scholarships? I think it's just that Varsity goon and his dad who don't want us here. But they can cause us trouble. Charlie doesn't think so. Charlie assured me that they won't do anything to us. I'm not so sure I can believe him. 

Charlie got awfully cocky over the summer. Now that I think about it, all the Ducks have changed, more or less. Luis is even _more_ girl-crazy, if possible. Banks is quieter, Averman is louder, and Goldberg eats more. Julie's lightened up some. Connie and Guy broke up, which shocked the entire team into silence (not easy at all) when we heard the news. Dwayne was getting a little less cowboy-ish when we left, but he's back with a full Texan recharge. He even _calls_ himself Cowboy. Jesse's in Colorado and Portman's in Chicago, so I can't say anything about them. Fulton, since Portman isn't here, has become much subdued. 

And then... there's Russ. 

Since we're the only Californian Ducks, Russ and I spent a month together over the summer. For much of it, we worked on fundamentals. I helped him with skating, he helped me with fighting. He's the same old Russ, still. Hockey with an attitude, and sometimes attitude with an attitude. 

It's dawned on me, as I've been writing this, that I've been paying a lot of attention to Russ so far this year. 

***** 

I put my journal away, scowling. I wrote in it, Mom, are you happy? And no, I'm not especially glad I did. All it was good for was making me realize I've been spending an unusual amount of time thinking about Russ lately, and I don't know what the point of _that_ is supposed to be. 

Or maybe I do. Maybe I'll actually have a best friend on the team this year. That would be nice. I've always sort of been the odd one out. Every team needs one, though, don't they? The type who gets along with everyone and isn't close to anyone? 

Somebody else can have that role this year. 

My roommate is already asleep. It makes perfect sense that said roommate should be Russ, doesn't it? Perfect. 

I watch him for a few minutes, since there's no way I can sleep just yet. (I always get a little hyper my first night in a new place.) It's hard to believe that _this_ is Mr. Attitude-with-an-Attitude. He looks so uncharacteristically _serene_. 

There I go, all intent on Russ again. And I ask myself... _self? Is there something you aren't telling me?_


	2. Eden Hell

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 1: Eden Hell 

***** 

Algebra first period. What sick individual came up with this? I drop into a seat and sigh. Russ is there already, he got caught wandering around during breakfast and they made him go to class early. 

"You didn't wait for me," I tell him, pretending to sound hurt. We have identical schedules, and we were planning to walk to class together. 

"Yeah well if it meant so much to you, you coulda got caught in the halls?" he suggests. We laugh. 

Slowly, the rest of the class begins to come in. All of the Ducks seem to be here. We do a schedule comparison. Most of us have biology, history, and music together. My other classes are completely Duck-less, other than Russ. 

I sigh and prepare myself for my first day at Eden Hell. 

***** 

September 3, 1996   
"Don't worry, Kenny. These prepsies aren't gonna do anything to us." 

The quote rings perfectly clear in my mind. I was right, Charlie has no idea what he's talking about. First, there's the Varsity. I've somehow become their favorite target. How does this work? No, on second thought, it makes perfect sense. They better pick on the _little_ Duck, and they better do it in groups. They might get their asses kicked otherwise. I bet I could take one, but the lot of them? No. 

But if Eden Hall is Hell and Varsity are the demons, that must make our biology teacher the devil. Every Monday we have a practice quiz, every Wednesday we have a real quiz, every Friday we have an exam, and whenever she feels like it we have a surprise quiz or exam. Plus we're not allowed to use any 'modern calculating devices.' And Russ asked if he could use an abacus, and it got him detention on the first day! 

I figured maybe it'd be a good idea if I didn't ask when, or if, we were going to _learn_ the stuff we're being tested over. But it was tempting. 

Then she decided to assign us seats. Russ is right in front of her desk, surprise surprise. I feel sorry for him. I'm near the back, next to Banks. 

But the worst part of the day was hockey practice. Never thought I'd say that. Our new coach, Coach Orion, makes Mrs. Madigan look tame. (So if _she's_ the devil, what does that make him? No, I don't want to know.) First, he seems to hate Charlie. He even told him he's not captain anymore, which has the whole team out for blood. Second, he told us to stay away from Varsity (like we would've needed any convincing), then decided he'd assign Banks to them (highly counterproductive). 

Third, and worst, he yelled at me for figure skating. What's with this? The only reason I'm on the team is because of my skating! What does he expect me to do? 

Not that it matters, as he's treating us like we've never played the game before. It's unbearably annoying. We're here on scholarship, remember, we _do_ know what we're doing. 

***** 

"Kenny, my man! What's up?" 

I put my journal under my pillow, I'll finish the interrupted entry later. Russ strides into the room with a huge smile on his face. He just had detention with the most _evil_ teacher in Eden Hall, what's he smiling about? 

I'm afraid to ask, but... "How did it go?" 

"I was supposed to be writing on the board. I will not mouth off to the teacher, 100 times! But she started to lecture me and I kept answerin' her back and she got so sick of me she let me go at 25." 

"Yeah? Cool!" We exchange victorious high-fives. Leave it to Russ to get out of a detention by being obnoxious. 

"Start on your homework yet?" 

"Nope. I was waiting for you." We'd gotten homework in biology (naturally), algebra, and music. The music homework should be okay. Mrs. Delaney is the nicest teacher here, and it's just a sort of 'get-to-know-you' information sheet. Of course the other classes wouldn't give us anything so easy. Algebra is a review worksheet covering everything we should've done in first through eighth grade math, and then some. 100 problems. I am _not_ in the mood. 

Russ's expression tells me that he isn't either. And as for Mrs. Madigan's stuff... "I'm not even gonna _look_ at the biology yet," he announces. "I've had enough of that class to last me the year. Let's do the music work." 

"No complaints about that." 

We don't need to work on _that_ together, of course. Since he's not paying attention to me, I get out my journal and finish today's entry. 

*****

September 3, 1996 (continued)   
The only bright spot at this place might be having all my classes with Russ. I've just got this feeling, that this year's going to make us into great friends. So far I think I've been right. 

But what if I'm _too_ right? I've got this obsession, it seems like. And it's not good when a guy gets obsessed with another guy. 

No way. I do _not_ have a crush on Russ Tyler, and even if I did it wouldn't matter, because what are the chances that he would ever return the feeling? And why have I just now started thinking this way? I know, it's this stupid journal's fault. I regret ever writing in this book. Good night. See if I ever write again. 


	3. Once Broken

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 2- Once Broken 

***** 

~~~~~   
_"Figure skating?!"_

_The second he yelled it, I knew he'd been drinking. All right. I was just gonna back off and not cause any more trouble... but he wasn't going to let me off that easily. He seized my arm as I tried to get away._

_"Where do you think you're going!" he yelled, slapping me hard across the face. I didn't flinch, I knew better. That made him madder. "Figure skating! Of all the sissy hobbies to take up! No son of mine is ever going to be a figure skater, you got that!?"_

_I wanted to point out that I wasn't his son. But that wouldn't have gone over well at all. I know how to handle this. Don't make things worse. Just get away. I knew when he was sober again, then he wouldn't mind. I could talk it over with him then. For now... "Yes, sir."_

_"Good! Now go to your room!" he hollered, and slapped me again for good measure._

_I went, privately seething. But I knew I'd gotten off easy that time._   
~~~~~ 

I wake up with a start, drenched in sweat. Ugh. Why am I having nightmares about that? Now, of all times! We've got our first game tomorrow, I really need to sleep. But going to sleep right after a nightmare only makes me have it again. 

I thought my nights of useless contemplation were over, too. 

I don't remember my real parents. They died in a car crash, when I was 2. All I really know is that my father was Korean, and my mother was American. And from pictures I know I inherited _no_ physical traits from her. 

I went to live with my uncle, from my mom's side—though I grew up thinking he was my dad. And I had no mother. But for some reason, to me, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Maybe I was just a strange kid. Wait, what's this maybe? 

He waited until I was older, and started asking, to tell me about my parents. In a way, I wish he hadn't waited, but I know he meant well. He always meant well. Unless he was drinking. But then... he was a terror. An absolute terror. 

My 'dad' doesn't drink anymore. He got married. She already had a kid, a six (now 10) year old named Alex. I guess there's strength in numbers, having one kid couldn't stop him but a wife and two kids could. He apologized to me once. I know there's not much else he thought he could do but... I didn't care about the apology. He'd stopped and that was all I was concerned with. 

And obviously, he did let me figure skate. He was proud of me... 

What time is it? 3 in the morning. I'd better not go to sleep just yet, still. Maybe fifteen more minutes. But I'd better start thinking about something else if I don't want to have another nightmare. 

Suddenly, Russ sits up. "Tired much?" 

I must've jumped six feet in the air. "What're you doing up?" 

"Can't sleep. You know we've got a game in less than 24 hours? And with ol' workaholic behind the bench! Who could sleep?" He pauses, reflectively. "And I was havin' nightmares about Mrs. Madigan." 

We both laugh at that. She gave him another detention today. In a 'normal' school, he'd get suspended, but luckily Eden Hall doesn't have a rule about some amount of detentions equaling a suspension. I get the feeling Coach would totally lose it if anyone on _his_ team got _suspended_... 

I look at Russ for a moment. Beautiful... did I just think that?! I think I did. Man, I really need to get it together. The last few days, I've managed to keep my obsession to a minimum... but... 

Maybe I should tell him? ...What a stupid idea! (There's no such thing as stupid ideas, only stupid people having ideas. Does a stupid person having a stupid idea cancel each other out and make a good idea? Okay, I've officially zoned out. Zoning out irks me.) 

"Hey, you okay?" 

What kind of stupid question is that? (There _is_ such thing as a stupid question, because that was absolutely not a stupid person asking a question.) Of course I'm not okay. I'm in love, and that's about as not-okay as you can get. 

_I'm in love_. Did I just think that? I guess I'm not in denial anymore. But it doesn't make me feel a lot better. In fact, it makes me feel worse. Much worse. And alone. Empty. 

Maybe because of the mess of confusion I call my thoughts, or maybe in spite of it, all I come up with as an answer is, "Fine. Just spacing." 

He grins. "Good. Go back to sleep, or you'll be spacing at the game and Coach'll make you ride the _pine pony_." We both burst into laughter at that. 

***** 

Attitude. One of the things I admire most about him. Sigh. There I go drooling again, and in the middle of a game no less! But I can get away with it, since we're on the bench. I guess. As long as he doesn't notice. But I wonder... "Russ, you gotta teach me to talk some trash." 

He grins at me. "It can't be _taught_, Ken man. It's gotta be the first thing that comes to your mind. You just gotta go for it." 

First thing that comes to my mind? Easy enough. "Hey ref—" 

"Uh uh." He slaps a hand over my mouth. "Pick another target." 

Well, I guess everyone's attitude has their limits. I glance over at the Blake bench and choose the first player I see. "Hey number 44, you... uh..." It occurs to me that this time there's nothing _coming_ to my mind. This definitely isn't as easy as it looks. "uh... you... you don't play real good." Oh yeah. Go Ken. 

Number 44 seems to agree with me. "Yeah right." 

That went well. "Shorter, man," Russ tells me when I shoot him a dejected look. "Get to the point." 

I think for a moment, then stand up as one of their other players skates past. What have I heard the other Ducks say... ha! "Hey number 9! Bite me—" He shoves me as he goes by and continues on his way. I go tumbling back onto the bench. 

"Now we're gettin' somewhere," Russ announces. And he smiles. 

Such a beautiful smile... 


	4. Starts with a W

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 3: Starts With a W 

***** 

September 13, 1996   
Friday the thirteenth. Friday-the-freakin-thirteenth. It couldn't be any _other_ day, could it? Eden Hall Warriors 9, Blake Bears 9. If they hadn't made all 9 in the third quarter when it looked like we had it won... and if we didn't have practice at 5 a.m. tomorrow because of it... and if Varsity hadn't dumped all our clothes in the showers... 

Well we got back at Varsity, at least wet clothes are wearable. Frozen ones aren't. I'm a little worried about that though. I know, I'm still a new Duck and don't know the way the old Ducks work, but it seems we've all dumped Banks pretty quick. It's not his fault he's on Varsity. 

Much of that's a selfish worry. It's not _my_ fault I'm his lab partner in biology. But Charlie seems to think I'm voluntarily fraternizing with the enemy, and nobody much likes to disagree with Charlie. Even though in private quite a few of us admit he's starting to piss us off. 

Especially because it was none other than our wonderful captain who kept us from winning the game. Our beloved captain who hates our coach and would never admit if he were right about _anything_, just as a matter of principle. Our great and mighty captain who could _never_ admit that he's wrong. 

Excuse me if I sound a little bitter in this entry. I am. 

This is why I shouldn't write... Writing. Starts with a W. Lots of things that start with W really annoy me. I think I'll make a list of them. 

Writing- I already explained this one. It makes me think too much. Particularly about Russ. Even more specifically, about being in love with Russ. I could write a whole paragraph on this but I'm not going to. Maybe if I ignore my crush, it'll go away. 

Work- It's not that I dislike work, exactly. Coach Orion's idea of work is not 'work,' though, it's slave driving. I said I'm more open minded about him than Charlie is, I never said I liked him. Plus, also in the work category, there's Mrs. Madigan, who's just... well, she's Mrs. Madigan. Enough said. 

Will- Charlie was partly right when he threw that fit in the locker room. I've got no will to play for this stuffy school that just wants us here to win and give the alumni some extra glory. Nothing like playing for the Team USA Ducks. 

Waking up- ...at 4 in the morning to get to a 5 in the morning practice. I'm a teenager, I shouldn't have to elaborate on this. 

Wu- My last name. Duh. The only thing I don't like about it is that it starts with a W, so I'm listing it under things that start with W that I don't like, to show why I don't like the letter W. Argh! Here I go on another bout of writing-induced thinking. 

Wisdom- For one thing, school exists in the name of giving us poor uneducated children the great gift of wisdom. For another, having the wisdom to realize I'm in love with another guy, and that it'll never work, is not something I can honestly say I'm too happy about. 

Hope W burns in hell. 

***** 

Feelings sufficiently vented, I put my journal away and try to sleep. But sleep won't come. I can't help thinking of that game. That horrible game. How could we have let it slip away? But the worst part is that the game wasn't all we let slip away. The Ducks are slipping away too. 

I glance over at Russ. Oh... just please don't let anything tear us apart. My heart's aching enough now. 

Mrs. Madigan stood up in front of the class and glared at us. "Today before you begin your quiz, I have an important announcement to make. We are starting an out-of-class project." Everyone knows better than to groan. Out loud. Russ and I exchange hopeful glances but there's just _no_ way she'll let us pick our own partners. Sure enough, "You will work with your lab partners. The project is to be completed by next Monday. When you turn your quiz in I will give you the worksheet detailing the project." 

She begins passing out our quizzes. Banks and I exchange glances. It's not bad enough for us to work together in class, now we're going to have to go out of our ways to spend time together! I get enough flak about this from some of the Ducks already. And I suspect Varsity's not too pleased with him either. 

He checks to make sure Mrs. Madigan isn't watching, then inconspicuously scribbles on the desk, "I'll see if I can switch with Russ." 

Varsity jock or no, I guess Adam's really not so bad... though I know it's survival instinct that really made the decision. The feeling's mutual. At least we can say we tried to get out of it. 

Nothing else I can do right now. I quietly take my quiz, an amazingly stupid set of essay questions about DNA. Luckily, I found some time to study over the weekend, even with all the practice Coach made us do. He doesn't seem to understand the concept of hockey being _just a game_. (Averman's calling him Captain Blood the Second.) 

Banks finishes his test and takes it up to Mrs. Madigan's desk. I can't overhear any of what's said, but he returns holding a project worksheet and looking very irritated. Guess she said no. 

I finish making up the last answer and hand my test in. The project details are _horrid_. It basically comes down to making a DNA model (to scale) for a sequence that we have to research, then making three more models of the same strand with different defects, explaining what each of the defects means, and writing a report about it. 

Is she crazy? Stupid question. 

Russ waits for me after class. We walk to history in complete silence, both of us undoubtedly dreading the next week. I mean, hockey practices have been hell enough, and now this! Plus we've got a huge algebra test to study for on Friday. 

I hate this school. But... I give a sideways glance at Russ. Misery loves company, right? And there's no one else I'd rather be miserable with. As long as he's around, things might not be so bad after all. Heck, they could almost be wonderful. 

Wonderful starts with a W... maybe it's not such a bad letter after all. 

***** 

_A/N- Okay, I think I've spent enough time on Kenny-reflection now. Next chapter, action occurs. ^_^_


	5. Another Side

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 4: Another Side 

_A/N- I completely forgot to write Banks vs. Ken over the liquid nitrogen in the last chapter, where it should've been. Tsk tsk, bad Aqua._

***** 

Thursday after classes I go straight back to my dorm, instead of hanging around with the rest of the Ducks like I usually would. Banks and I are finally getting around to working on our project. (I've been warned that he's found out Russ and I were behind the liquid nitrogen thing, and he's going to kill me for it, but I'll worry about that when it happens.) 

When I get there, though, I run into something that puts biology completely out of my mind. Russ walks out of the room. With a girl. I duck around a corner, so I can't hear what they're saying, but they're definitely enjoying themselves. 

I think I recognize the girl, but I can't figure out why. All that runs through my mind is: that has to be his girlfriend. 

What did you _expect_, stupid? I snap at myself. After all, I've spent the entire year telling myself this could never work out, I really shouldn't be hurting so much, but... who ever said love has to make sense? I check to make sure they're well down the hall before running into the room and flinging myself on the bed. 

I let myself cry, no point in holding it back. Better get it out sooner than later. Why did it have to be me? Why did it have to be _him_? Should I tell him anyway? Yeah, a lot of good that would do, a _lot_ of good. 

But maybe a final rejection would help me sort myself out. Because even now I'm still hoping it was just a mistake. 

Somebody knocks on the door. I ignore it, it's not like Russ doesn't have a key. And I can't think of anyone else that might be paying a visit. 

"Ken?" 

Dammit! In approximately five minutes, I managed to forget all about that stupid project. "Banks, maybe we should reschedule," I manage to choke out in a relatively normal voice. "I'm... not feeling all that great." Well, it's not _really_ a lie. 

Pause. "Sure..." 

I pound my pillow. That was probably stupid, now I can fail biology as well as not having a boyfriend. But the only thing I want less than a Duck coming in here is a Varsity jock who wants to kill me coming in here. 

That was mean. But at this point I don't care. 

Banks has only been gone for a minute or two when the door swings open and Russ comes in. Completely without warning. I force myself to lie still, and try to pretend I'm sleeping. Usually I'm good at that, but this time it's not working. 

"Yo, Kenny, what's goin' on? Heard you're not feelin' too good, but you've been fine all day... what's up?" 

Sigh. Like I can tell him. "Just tired." I bury my face in my pillow. After a little while he leaves. Great job, Ken, he wants to help and you just shove him away. Real brilliant. 

I force myself to sleep. 

~~~~~   
_Where am I?_

_I look around, a little startled. Then I remember. I'm at the ice rink... I've been here all night. Right. I ran away because I knew he'd been drinking too much. I came to skate. And since I knew he'd be both drunk and _furious_ if I went home that evening, I'd just spent the night._

_They obviously hadn't caught me, so... that's okay._

_The trick was to make it back home when he was sober. He wouldn't be angry at all, then. He'd tell me how sorry he is and I had every right to run away and he'll try to stop—always, he'll try to stop—then we go out for ice cream._

_But if he's drunk when I get there..._

_I don't want to think about that. I pick up my skates and pop up out of the bleachers for a quick look around. If the place is open, I can just walk on out. If it's closed I'll probably have to sneak through the same window I came in. I'm in luck today, there are several people already on the ice._

_I take a look at my watch. 8 in the morning, okay, that works. He shouldn't be awake yet, which means he won't know I'm not home. If he doesn't know I'm not home, he won't get worried. If he's not worried, he won't start drinking before I get there. But I don't have a lot of time to waste._

_The second I walk in the door, I know something's wrong. There's lights on, but there shouldn't be any lights on if he's not—_

_"Kenneth!"_

_Uh oh. He only calls me Kenneth when he's drunk. And mad. And looking for a punching bag. I turn around quickly and head back out the door but he comes thundering into the room before I can make it out._

_"Just where do you think you're going! I think you've been away quite enough for today!"_

_I sigh, and just let him hit me. There's no point in crying about it, he'll have to stop eventually. Just have to wait it out... in spite of the pain._   
~~~~~ 

I wake up, and cringe, not opening my eyes. Someone _is_ hitting me. No, not really... there's definitely someone stroking my hair, though, and it's kind of.. soothing. I open my eyes to see who it is. 

How many people would _be_ in your room, stupid? 

Russ immediately jerks his hand away, he looks very startled. I sigh, furious at myself for ruining it. "What was...?" 

"Sorry," he answers before I can finish. 

Sorry? Why? Why did you have to stop? "No, it's okay, really. I was just curious." 

He looks so uncomfortable, and I feel bad for asking. Finally, "You were yelling and stuff and I figured you must be having a nightmare, and I thought I should wake you up, but I know I hate it when people scare me awake, so I thought..." 

Wow. Here's a side of Russ I've never seen before. I guess it makes sense, there's got to be more to him than attitude, right? At the same time, I'm disappointed. He was just worried about me having a nightmare. Nothing more... 

He has a girlfriend, stupid. 

"Thanks," I manage to get out. 

He smiles. "No problem." He stands up, and returns to his bed. "Oh, by the way." 

"Yeah?" 

"If you want to talk, I'm available." There he goes again, that uncharacteristic seriousness. 

I smile into my pillow. Behind all that sarcasm... Russ is really a good friend. "I'll remember that." And I'll probably take him up on it, too. But not right now. I'm in too good a mood now for the nightmares to come back. For now, I'll just sleep. 


	6. Talking It Out

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 5: Talking It Out 

***** 

September 20, 1996   
Last night keeps replaying itself in my mind. Got me yelled at when I couldn't pay attention in biology, but that's all right. What Mrs. Madigan doesn't know is that I _never_ pay attention, my acting was just off today. 

I really need to talk to someone. 

I can think of four options. First, there's Charlie. He's the captain, after all, he's supposed to be there to help his team. And after the rumors at the Jr. Goodwill Games, one would think he'd be understanding. 

But Charlie's not a plausible candidate. He's too busy bitching about not having his stupid C. Whoa, did I say that? I'm getting a little more irritated than I should be. 

Second option is Banks, again because of the rumors at the Games. Again, not plausible, because he's a Varsity jock and wants to kill me. 

Third option is Russ, since after all, he _did_ say I could talk to him. But you do not go up to the object of your affections, especially when said person has a girlfriend, and tell him you're in love with him, what should you do about it. A third option that doesn't work. 

And that leaves the most expensive, but most sensible, person that I could talk to. I'll call Don. 

I'll do it later. Russ is gone, working on his biology project. I should be doing the same. Banks and I decided we'll just each do half of the work on our own over the weekend, then bring it in on Monday and put it all together as best we can. 

See, Varsity's invited us to dinner tonight. And while he doesn't know anything for sure, and I don't know if Charlie's got anything planned, we're both expecting not to be on speaking terms afterwards. 

Eden Hall was supposed to be such a great opportunity for the Ducks. So why are we all breaking apart? Maybe I should call Don now... before I think too much and get depressed. 

***** 

I get out my cell phone and dial. I know the number by heart. I wonder what the other Ducks would have to say about it, though? I mean, Don Tibbles is kind of an odd person to have as a father figure. But ever since he convinced me to start playing hockey, that's exactly how I've seen him. Strange. 

"Hello?" 

Good, that's him. "Hey Don, it's Ken." 

"Ken, hi! How's it going? Liking school so far?" 

"_No_." It comes out more forcefully than I intended, but I know he won't take offense, he's heard it enough before. Even now, he's the one I come to with my problems. He doesn't mind my venting. 

"Trouble with the Ducks?" 

Perceptive, too. "All sorts of trouble." And thus begins the rant. "Our new coach split the team up, Charlie's all ticked off because he's not captain anymore and he's taking it out on the rest of us, Banks is my biology lab partner but he's on Varsity and he's probably gonna kill me, and I've got a crush on someone but he's taken." 

I stop, realizing I probably need to breathe. Don manages to get one word in. "He?" 

Did I say that? Oh well, I was going to get to it eventually. "Well... yeah. There's that, too. I've got a crush on somebody who's not only taken but he's _straight_." 

There's silence on the other end of the line for a long, long time. Maybe I was wrong, I should've kept my mouth shut. 

"I don't know what to tell you about that," he says finally. "I can try, though. Is he a Duck?" 

"Yeah. Russ..." 

I can _hear_ his frown. "I don't know Russ very well. He spent some time with you this summer though, didn't he?" 

"Right." 

"You're still good friends with him?" 

"Yeah..." 

"Then tell him." 

That was definitely the last thing I expected to hear. "You're kidding. Right?" 

"No..." I was afraid of that. "If he's really your friend, he'll understand. And maybe once you've told him you won't feel so bad about it. Give it a shot." 

What's the point in asking for advice if I'm not gonna take it? "All right." 

"Good. Call me back and let me know how it turns out, okay? Now about your problems with Charlie..." 

***** 

I sit on my bed, waiting for Russ to get back. Dreading it. I know I promised Don I'd tell him how I feel but I don't want to, and I keep hoping something will happen. Something to get me out of it... 

It's a little over an hour before we're supposed to leave for dinner. Maybe he won't get back before then. Maybe, just maybe... 

I decide to spend the time working on the biology project, but I've hardly started when the door flies open. "Hi Russ." 

"Hey, Wumeister!" Wow... he's in a good mood. Do I honestly want to do this? Stupid question. But especially, do I want to do this _now_? He answers my question for me, though, probably noticing my less than enthusiastic non-reaction to his arrival. "Something wrong, Kenny?" 

"N—" The reflex refusal dies almost immediately. "Well, yeah." 

He doesn't say anything, but I know I'm expected to talk now, and I lose my nerve so fast it isn't funny. How do I get myself into these messes? 

Start with the basics, Kenny. "Well... y'see..." Don't be so nervous! There's no need for that. He's your friend. "I've been thinking and... IkindafiguredoutI'mgay." Way to go Ken, such confidence, such _poise_... 

He stares at me for a long moment. Oh hell, now I've done it. What was I thinking? There's just no way in hell this is going to go over well, no way at all... 

And he _laughs_. 

I'm sure I'm giving him the oddest look I'm capable of, but it doesn't seem to bother him a bit. After a few minutes he regains his composure. "Is that all you're worried about?" 

What's he mean is that _all?_ "Yeah..." 

"Well, good. At least I'm not the only one." 

_"WHAT?!" _I discreetly pinch myself. Hard. Several times. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Okay, so maybe he's gay, even if he has a _girlfriend_, which I'll have to ask him about when I regain my composure. In that case, he's probably already taken. 

"Sure. I've known for a long time now." Shrug. "It's the way I am. What's the problem with it?" 

I look for something to put off the confession. "But don't you have a girlfriend? What about that girl you've been going off with all the time lately..." 

He favors me with a _you're-not-very-observant-are-you_ look. "My lab partner? Girl, yes. Friend, yes. Girlfriend? Hardly." And he flashes me a wide grin. "She's just not my type." 

I laugh in spite of myself. "So who _is_ your type?" 

He shrugs again. "Still working on that one." 

It _is_ too good to be true. Has to be. We stare at each other for a moment, and we both come out with the same thing. 

"Want to go to a movie tomorrow?" 

We both laugh, slightly nervous, but not really. He answers first, in a higher-pitched falsetto than should be legal... "I'd absolutely love to, darling." At _that_ one we both crack up. 

"We should probably get ready to go," I observe after a bit. He groans at the prospect—dinner with Varsity! I share his sentiment, but I don't want to make them even madder by not showing. Besides, Charlie wouldn't forgive us for that either. 

But... with the prospect of a date (is it a date? Is now) tomorrow, I don't think I could care less what goes wrong tonight. 


	7. Ducks Fly Apart

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 6: Ducks Fly Apart 

***** 

"All right. We have to get into the Varsity dorms, that might present a problem. We'll need a lookout. Cowboy, that's you. Borrow one of the horses from the equestrian team and rope any Varsity goons you happen to see prowling around." 

Cowboy flashes me a sharp salute. "Yes sir!" 

Dinner last night was wonderful. Until, at least, Varsity decided to bail and make us pay, so we got stuck at the restaurant washing dishes until midnight. Charlie's spent today alternately raging against Riley, raging against Banks, raging against Orion, and telling us we have to get revenge. Revenge, of course, is precisely what we're plotting here. 

The planning fell to Russ and I. Maybe because we masterminded the liquid nitrogen operation, well, as much as that spontaneous mess could be masterminded. In any case, that's why we're pacing in front of the rest of the Ducks like soldiers giving the new recruits an important training lesson. 

Russ takes over for me. "We'll need two other lookouts, to watch for the official prep-types. Don't need them gettin' roped. Also, they'll be watchin' the inside of the dorm through the windows, to help the main team get where they need to be. Connie, Guy, that's your job." 

They exchange glares. They broke up after our game against Blake, but that's a total secret, which is why the whole team knows about it. "All right," Guy answers at length. 

"Team A, hereinafter referred to as the Quacks," I'm forced to pause by a round of snickering as Russ glares at me, "will be Russ, Charlie, and Fulton." Said Ducks snap to attention. So do the rest, because they know we're finally going to tell them what the plan _is_. "You've got the most dangerous mission," I warn, enjoying the suspense. "You'll be sneaking into Dean Buckley's office—don't worry, Russ is an expert at picking locks." 

Russ raises his hands to acknowledge imaginary applause. "We're gonna be borrowin' a hundred or so of his fire ants," he explains. "Team B, who we're gonna call the Flaps—" I glare at him, and everyone laughs again. "—is everyone else, and they'll be responsible for gettin' said ants into the Varsity beds." 

Cheers and laughter ring through the room as the Ducks head out the door. 

***** 

I'm slightly annoyed to be spending a perfectly good Sunday night sabotaging Varsity. Russ and I were supposed to be going to a movie tonight, after all... but our loyalty to the team came first. 

That's okay, I guess. We can reschedule but... 

In my irritated thoughts, I accidentally manage to step on Averman's head, instead of his shoulders where I'm supposed to be standing. "No big deal, just my face," he cracks. 

"Sorry," I hiss, and return to work. Standing on a teammate with a fishing pole stuck over the door to a Varsity room is not a good place to get lost in thought. Not at all. 

"Just a little to the right," Connie's voice comes through the radio. "No, not quite that much... okay, perfect!" 

I drop silently to the floor and tape down the tube I was guiding into the room. If our planning was correct, it's on one of the Varsity jocks' beds. 

Russ's group comes in just as we finish setting up. "Didja get em?" someone asks. 

"Only a couple..." Charlie says, holding up a jar. "...hundred." 

We pour the ants into the tubes, with muffled laughter. Now we just have to wait... 

The radio crackles. It's Dwayne. "We got a stray calf out here, roped up nice and tight. How're ya'll doin' in there?" 

"Not bad," I assure him. "Who's the victim?" 

"Cole." 

We exchange high-fives. "Nice work, Cowboy! The ants are released, so we'll be out soon. You might want to get that horse back where it belongs." 

"Right." 

That's when we hear the screams. 

We've got the doors tied up so they can't get out of their rooms, but we can tell from the banging that they're making an attempt. "Go on, let 'em out," Charlie instructs Julie, who's holding the rope. I want to point out that Russ and I are in charge of this operation, would he stop telling everyone what to do, but the Cat complies. 

Varsity spills out of their rooms, howling and scratching and covered in ants. I seek out Banks, and one look assures me I'm dead as you please in biology tomorrow. That's okay. I turn my attention to Riley, who's yelling at Charlie. 

"You think you're funny, huh? You think you've won the game? You're just white trash!" 

I smirk as Russ gets in his face. "Who're you callin' white trash?" 

"We'll take you any _time_, any _where_," Charlie offers. 

"Tomorrow!" Riley yells. "Dawn!" With that, Varsity takes off. 

We stand there laughing for a minute or two, until Cole's voice echoes down the hall. "I'm gonna kill you guys!" 

"Uh oh..." 

"I think it's probably time to leave." 

We're gone. 

***** 

"And get those Duck jerseys off. Now." 

The game didn't go so well. I'd lost track of the score by the time Banks and Charlie got into a fight near the Warrior goal, which turned into a full-scale war, which Coach Orion broke up. And now he wants us to give up our jerseys. 

"Come on, let's go, take them off!" 

We do. But not all of us. I've got a sick feeling that this won't be pretty... 

"You've got two choices, Conway," Coach announces, confirming my thoughts. "Take off the jersey right now or you don't play." 

"You're breaking up the best thing any of us ever had," Charlie retorts. I'm immediately annoyed. I know he's just trying to keep the Ducks from ending, but _who does he think he is_ speaking for the whole team like that! 

"Well, it's time to grow up." 

"Grow up? Like you, huh... a washed up pro who has to show off to a bunch of kids? Geez, that's real grown up." 

I flinch involuntarily. Charlie's done some not-too-bright things lately, but that was just plain stupid. Orion isn't amused either. "Okay, goodbye Conway." Charlie skates past, glaring. Another surge of anger hits me. Right, Charlie, just walk on out, bail on us because you can't contain your ego, way to go _captain_... "Anyone else?" 

Fulton wordlessly exits the rink. "Okay, goodbye Fulton." He looks around at us. "No one's forcing any of you to be here. It's your lives. You decide what to make of them. ...Okay. 20 laps, then hit the showers." 

Russ skates up to me. "That went well." 

"I'm going to talk to Charlie." It comes out as sort of a half growl, half hiss, and he looks startled. "He's the one who got us into this and he's not just waltzing out now that things aren't going his way." 

"Calm down. He'll be back. Give it time." 

I guess he's right. My mind drifts to our cancelled date last night, and my impending death in biology in a matter of hours. "What do you say we catch that movie tonight?" 

"Sounds like a plan." 

***** 

I'm all ready to die, but Banks doesn't show up in biology. I wouldn't dwell too much on it, except that it means I only have half my project. 

She looks at the work I hand her, and frowns. "This doesn't look like a complete project, Mr. Wu," she tells me sternly. 

"My partner has the other half of it. And he's not here." 

Glare. I cringe slightly, and I'm positive she's gonna give me detention and I'm going to miss my... appointment... again. Instead she just scowls, "Go and get it from him and bring it to me before 5 this afternoon," and moves on to the next desk. 

I'd rather have detention. Going to the Varsity dorms, alone, probably right when they'll all be getting back from practice! Just what I always wanted to do. Oh well, I _was_ planning to die today anyway, I suppose I can't complain. 

A note lands on my desk. From Russ, naturally. _I'll go with you._ I flash him a grateful smile. But right around then, a girl walks in with a piece of paper. She's one of the school's message runners, who all the teachers hate because they yank people out of class. 

Mrs. Madigan takes the notes the girl gives her, scowls, and announces in an annoyed tone, "All members of the JV hockey team are to report to Dean Buckley's office immediately." She looks at the second note, tells the messenger, "He's not here," and starts passing out practice quizzes. 

All of the Ducks... no, JV Warriors... exchange apprehensive glances, then file out of the room in silence. 


	8. One Lost

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 7: One Lost 

_A/N- Took me long enough, didn't it? -_-' I know, Charlie went to see Hans sometime after the JV-Varsity match, but just because I know it now doesn't mean I remembered it last chapter when I set everything up. Anyway, on with the show ^_^_

Dean Buckley isn't even in his office. Coach Orion is. The whole team exchanges glances—are we in more trouble for the game this morning? No, that can't be it... he looks too uncomfortable. Everyone knows it's stupid to look nervous if you're about to deal out punishment. 

We all give him curious looks, and he sighs. "Someone please relay this to Conway, Fulton, and Banks," he starts, cautiously. "It's about your friend Hans..." 

No. Don't say it. I know immediately what's happened, it's obvious from his tone. Don't say it... 

~~~~~   
_"Kenny... we need to have a talk."_

_"Yeah?" Dad doesn't look drunk, so I settle down on the couch and watch him, waiting for him to speak. He's not smiling, and I quickly sober as well. "Is something wrong?"_

_"Well..." He sighs. "You're old enough now, we need to talk about your parents."_

_I give him an odd look. "You mean Mom?" He's always avoided my questions about my mom, promising he'd answer someday..._

_"No, your parents. I'm not really your father... you see... your parents have been dead for a long time."_

_He always had a gift for being abrupt, but this beats everything! I hardly even hear the rest of what he has to say as the shock sets in.___

_Dead?_   
~~~~~ 

"He died early this morning." 

I said don't say it! I never really knew Hans, we met him once when we got back from LA, that was it. But still... and the original Ducks look like they've been collectively slugged in the stomach. Coach actually looks quite shaken himself. 

Russ squeezes my hand briefly, seeming to sense my thoughts. I almost shake him away, I want to be left alone, but no sense in that. Not with everything else already falling apart. 

***** 

We have the rest of the day off. Guy called Charlie's mom, but she doesn't know where he is. Fulton is back—he and Captain Duck had a big bust-up, apparently. Since I have to go find him anyway, the task of informing Banksie has fallen to me. 

But I don't want to go. Not yet... 

Russ glances at me from the other side of the room. He knows better than to say anything. I've been collapsed on my bed sobbing for the last half hour. Not for Hans, not exactly. Partly for him. Partly for the Ducks, falling apart faster than we can patch ourselves up. Partly for myself, and my own pain... 

By now I've run out of tears, but I'm too exhausted to go anywhere. Maybe Russ just sees that I've stopped crying, maybe he can tell I'm calming down. Either way he walks over to me. 

"We... should go tell Banks," I manage to choke out. It's the last thing I want to do, but... got to get it over with sometime. Right? 

Wrong. "I don't think so. You're a mess." He's probably right, I admit to myself. "Get some sleep. We can go find Cake-eater later." 

"But Mrs. Madigan wanted the project by—" 

"Screw Mrs. Madigan." 

The opportunity's too perfect, no matter what the situation. So what if it makes me feel even worse the second I speak. Jokes, now...? But I can't help myself. "I'm not like that, man..." 

He laughs a little. "Good. Wouldn't want competition..." Did he just say what I think he said? "Now sleep." 

I must not have realized how tired I really was, because I hardly hear the order before drifting off. 

***** 

"Ken?" 

Russ is shaking me. I don't want to wake up. I can't wake up... it hurts too badly, I want to go back into the unfeeling darkness... no such luck. Russ is being very persistent about getting me up. "What?" I moan, dragging myself into a sitting position with supreme effort. "Lemme sleep..." 

"You've been asleep for twelve hours," he explains quietly. 

I glance reflexively at the clock. It says 1:27. And it's dark outside. Oh, God. 

He isn't finished. "I figured ya might be hungry, so I snuck out and got you some dinner. I hope you like turkey sandwiches..." This last comment is a little sheepish. "I went and talked to Cake-eater, too..." 

That completely snaps me out of it. "You _what_?" 

"Figured you weren't in any shape to be goin' over there, so I went to get your project from 'im. Turns out he had his roommate take it over after classes were out. Dunno why he didn't show up though, he didn't look too bad—Ken, man, you there?" 

"I... I'm here. Did you tell him about...?" I can't get the words out. 

He nods. "You're in bad enough shape without having to talk about it." 

I want to scream. Russ, you do too much... And I'm still tired. I want to sleep... 

He hands me the sandwich. "You need to eat." 

Maybe he's right, I realize. I hardly ate any breakfast and was in no mood for lunch, so basically I haven't eaten anything significant for nearly 30 hours. Maybe that's the problem... that's the last thought that goes through my mind before I black out. 

***** 

"Exhaustion, mostly. And he didn't eat much yesterday." 

I wake up feeling like I got run over by a freight train. For a terrifyingly long moment I can't remember a thing. "What happened?" My voice comes out very weak. 

"Ken!" 

I open my eyes. It looks like I'm in the on-campus medical building, but looking out the window of the room, I can see that I'm not on campus. I must be in the hospital. What the hell? Russ and Coach Bombay are in the room, both looking at me with identical concerned expressions. 

...Coach Bombay? 

"How are you feeling?" he asks, frowning. 

"Like the whole of Iceland just checked me," I mutter. They haven't answered my question yet. "What happened?" 

"You blacked out," Russ supplies. Yeah, I think I got that part. "The doctor said it was exhaustion. Man, Ken, how much sleep have you been missin'?" 

"About as much as you." I didn't think it was that bad. But maybe sleep isn't the problem. Maybe it wasn't physical exhaustion... 

"Was it Hans?" 

I nod weakly in response to Coach's question. "Partly." I want to tell him everything that's happened but I don't trust my voice anymore. Maybe he already knows. Maybe Russ told him. 

About how far the Ducks, his Ducks, have fallen. 

I want to believe that with Coach Bombay here, everything's going to be alright again. But can it ever be alright? Can we ever recover? I want to sleep. I want to scream. I want to go back to the Ducks, back to the Goodwill Games. I just want to forget this year ever happened... and of course it's not an option. 

Russ comes and sits on my bed. "We'll pull through," he promises, as if he read my mind. 

Coach nods. "I'm proud of you Ducks. This wasn't an easy transition... especially without Charlie, the rest of you are handling it great." He paused. "I'm sure it's hard to believe that." 

Coach, you are a master of understatement. 

"I'm going to try to talk to Charlie while I'm here," he continues. "I can't make any promises, but... I'll do my best." 


	9. Path to Recovery

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 8: Path to Recovery 

_A/N- I know, the last chapter took me forever. See how quick I got this one up though? See? See? ^_^_

***** 

The locker room gets dead-silent the second I walk in. I don't find it particularly encouraging, but I guess I can't blame them either. It's not like I spent a long time in the hospital—they released me in about a day, once they were satisfied I wasn't seriously ill—but the hospital's the hospital! 

Russ smiles quite broadly when he sees me. I wasn't sure if I would make it to practice today, so I told him to go on ahead. Guess he wasn't expecting me to show up. But I have to start trying to recover sometime, right? Even if I feel like I could fall down and sleep for a week. That's okay. Getting out on the ice should wake me up. For my sake, it better. 

The mood in the locker room is best described as Doom And Gloom. No surprise there. Hans' funeral is this afternoon. The whole team's going. 

I'll probably relapse and faint or something. It would figure. 

Despite being the last one into the locker room, I'm one of the first to hit the ice, with Russ right behind me. Coach calls me over. 

"Ken, if you feel like you need to sit out, just go ahead." 

That's about the last thing anyone ever would expect to hear from Coach Orion, the king of toughing it out. Well, he can give his benevolence to somebody else—I don't care how bad I'm doing, I'm not accepting any special treatment. 

We'll see if that changes the first time I get checked. Welcome back to the wonderful world of Warrior hockey. Or maybe, welcome for the first time. Woohoo. 

Damn, I hope Coach Bombay can talk some sense into Charlie. I think. 

***** 

Practice went well—as well as can be expected, anyway. I thought the team had no heart our first game. Then I changed that opinion—we had no heart after Charlie left. But if we had no heart then, I have no idea how to describe our playing now. Russ calls it trying to fly without flapping our wings. Sounds about right. 

I know better than anyone that we can't just mope around like this. I share my worries with Russ, who agrees. "But what do we do about it?" 

He thinks about that for a moment, then grins. "Well, it's not gonna be easy. But we have to go back to being Ducks." 

Before I have a chance to ask what that's supposed to mean, he takes a deep breath, stands up, and announces over everyone else's quiet conversation, "Street puck game Saturday! Show up or I'll come drag you out. We're gonna play some real hockey for a change!" 

Well, that's one way of doing it. "Forget it. You don't celebrate funerals with hockey games," Averman groans. 

Russ flinches, but he recovers quickly. "Man, who's celebratin'? We're not gonna sit around sulking for the rest of our lives, are we? And you know Coach isn't going to miraculously find a way to pull us out of the game at Minnetonka on Sunday. And if he could, he wouldn't. So, we're gonna go play some schoolyard puck, and we're gonna like it!" He says it all with a smile on his face, more or less forced, but succeeding in not sounding nearly as obnoxious and overbearing as anyone else would. 

I flash him a grin as he sits down and goes back to changing. The rest of the team is mumbling to each other, obviously considering the 'suggestion.' The general mood in the room seems to be an affirmative. And almost enthusiastic. 

For the first time in a long while, I'm more or less happy, but then Russ drops the bombshell. Leaning close so the rest of the team can't hear, he whispers, "Invite Banks." 

I don't get a chance to protest. He planted a quick kiss on my cheek, grabbed his bag, and was gone. 

Russ, when this mess is over, I'm going to kill you. 

***** 

I wander into biology, glaring at Russ (who grins). I punch him lightly and casually drop into my seat. Banks isn't here yet. Maybe he won't show up, and I won't have to ask—no, thinking like that won't get me anywhere. I always get here before he does. He'll be here, I'll ask him, and from there I guess I'll just have to wing it. 

Winging like a Duck. 

...Like a Duck? 

Where did that come from? I thought we were all over the gung-ho Duckism. I thought we were all good little Warriors now that Captain Duck is gone. I thought— 

I obviously didn't think very carefully. 

All of Coach Orion's attempts to make us good little Warriors, and what have they succeeded in doing? They've made us stronger Ducks. 

I wonder if that could've been what he wanted? 

"Ken." 

Banks appeared out of nowhere while I was busy musing about my Duckiness, and I look up to see that he's smiling. That... is really not normal. But then I grin back. Adam's a Duck too. 

Still. 

Always. 

"Hi Banks." 

"How're you feeling?" 

Okay, I wasn't expecting that. "Better." 

"Good." He sits next to me and sighs. "Sorry I didn't show up Monday... I was counting on my roommate getting my part of the project here on time, but he's not exactly the most reliable person in the school..." 

"No problem," I assure him, maybe a little too quickly. Well, here goes nothing. "Hey, we've got a game scheduled Saturday. Street puck, no workaholic coaches, only Ducks allowed. You're invited." 

Frown. "Will Charlie be there?" 

Yeah, right. Of course Captain Duck will be there, after all, Captain Duck stuck with us and was at practice this morning to find out about it—okay, this is getting out of hand. Or is it? "I don't think so." 

He looks a bit nervous, and then he nods. "I'll be there." 

Geez. Charlie really did a number on poor Banksie. Russ has been watching us from the front of the room, and gives me a questioning look. I nod. 

Naturally, Mrs. Madigan chooses right now to walk in. "Mr. Tyler, would you kindly turn around and prepare yourself for class?" 

"But the bell hasn't even rung yet." 

"You are in the classroom, therefore you should be ready to learn!" 

I force myself not to laugh, she wouldn't like that very much. Or in that case, maybe I should. Russ looks back and winks at me before answering, "Well can I leave the classroom then? Cuz I'm not gonna be able to learn with you teaching." 

Just another wonderful day in biology. 

Eden Hall isn't a place for Ducks. Never has been. But we can fix that. They brought us here, now they face the consequences. Because they can't change us. 

Ducks fly forever. 


	10. Ducks Fly Forever

**Closer Than We Thought**   
Chapter 9: Ducks Fly Forever 

_A/N- Hmm... it's been ages, but at least it's a nice long chapter. At least by my standards. That counts for something, right? ^_^_

***** 

"Russ?" 

Russ nods in silent acknowledgement, but he doesn't turn from where he's sitting and staring out the window. He is _not_ in a good mood. Not at all. 

And how can anyone possibly blame him? Or then again, maybe we should've known a little thing like a funeral wouldn't stop Mrs. Madigan from handing out detentions. 

_"What time is it?"_

_"Five."_

_She scowls. "You'll be out of here at four-thirty. Plenty of time."_

_What? But the funeral's forty-five minutes away... Russ tries to tell her that but she just snaps, "Show up. Or else."_

He didn't go. Now he's suspended for a week. A _week!_ She's just out to get him. And this damned school doesn't care. Nobody's going to pay them for letting him off, so they aren't letting him off, regardless of how stupid the reason behind the suspension is. And it gets worse. Because we both know that if the JV team was winning, they would never even think about suspending a _hockey player_. 

I'm getting so bitter lately. Sigh. 

Russ didn't throw a fit about it, like certain other Ducks (or ex-Ducks, who probably consider all of us ex-Ducks) would have. He's just furious. So am I, for that matter. But I can't show it, not now anyway. I can't do anything for him if I'm pissed off too. 

When I don't answer him, he does turn around. "Yeah?" He sounds like he wants to kill me for daring to speak to him, but I know better. I don't mind being vented at, and besides, I owe him. 

And I'm madly in love with him. Yeah. Let's not forget that part. 

I edge over and take his hand. "We'll figure out something." 

"Like what? When my dad finds out my ass is gonna be busted so bad I won't be able to sit down for a month." 

I let my expression darken a little bit. I've met Russ's dad once, and I do not like the man at all. He seemed nice enough, but he just rubbed me the wrong way—and with the way Russ always talks about him, he's awfully demanding. And not too forgiving when those demands aren't met. 

A thought hits me. Well, at least my brain decides to work now rather than somewhere I don't need it—like biology. 

"He's not going to do anything to you. He's not going to find out." 

Russ's furious mask cracks and he gives me a very strange look. "What're you on about? You certainly don't think they won't call about it cuz of the long distance bill?" 

Both of us laugh, a little. "I've got an idea. You aren't gonna get suspended," I promise, standing. "I'll be back in a few minutes." 

He watches, dumbfounded, as I head out the door, but when I turn around and blow him a kiss, he actually smiles. 

If Russ can be the Duck who forces everyone to get over all our pain, surely I can be the Duck who gets our bright spot out of suspension. 

***** 

Eden Hall has a rule that says nobody can coach an athletic team unless they're teaching at least one class. No, not even if the team is hockey. 

Coach Orion's accounting class has a longer name when people in the class talk about it. Accounting and Work Ethics. Maybe we should start calling the JV team Hockey and Work Ethics. 

He's in the classroom, which surprises me a little. But not a lot. Probably working, but truthfully, I don't care if I'm interrupting anything. This is more important than someone's stupid accounting test. 

"Coach." 

He looks up, surprised. That's probably the first time anyone on the team has ever called him just 'Coach.' Too informal, too friendly. Just because we're getting used to him doesn't mean we like him. Or that we have to be anything more than civil to him. "Is there a problem, Wu?" 

"Russ is going to be suspended next week." Way to go, Ken. Surely you don't think he doesn't already know that. 

"I know. Disrespecting teachers, again. I don't know what that has to do with me." 

Well, maybe this will be more productive than I thought. "He got a detention because he was mouthing off to Mrs. Madigan. He got suspended because she scheduled it during Hans' funeral, so he skipped it. Mrs. Madigan knew about it. You know that if we were winning more games they wouldn't dream of suspending him. It's not just unfair, it's sick and wrong. You can get them to cancel it. You're the _hockey coach!_" 

He watches me very carefully. I don't know if it's because he's mad, or because I've said more in about the last two minutes than he hears in a normal week. Maybe a little of both. 

"I don't do special favors for people when they get themselves in trouble," he says finally, frowning. Didn't he hear anything I just said? But then he stands and starts pacing next to the desk. "Ken, all this has been awfully hard on you, hasn't it? More than the others." 

"Yeah." Talk about understatements. And I'm still not sure why. 

"I knew Hans very well." It sounds almost like he's talking to himself. "He was a coach, before he and his brother opened their equipment shop. He kept coaching peewee for awhile after that. He taught me almost everything I know about hockey." 

I stare. Nobody had any idea about this, I'm sure. I'm equally sure that he didn't learn his obsession with work from Hans. From what little I knew of the man, he seemed very easygoing. 'Easygoing' is not a word in Coach Orion's vocabulary. (Of course not. It doesn't start with a W.) 

"I know that you're right, that they don't suspend hockey players here if the team is winning. And strange as it probably sounds, I'm glad Russ considered it so important to go to the funeral." Am I really hearing this? "So, yes. I'll talk to the Dean about the suspension. Just remember that I can't make any promises. And he'll still have to serve the detention sometime." 

I nod enthusiastically and turn to leave. "Thanks, Coach." 

"Wu." 

I pause on my way out the door. "Yeah?" 

"Any particular reason you're the one coming to me with this?" 

That was _not_ what you were supposed to ask. "I'm his roommate. When something puts him in a bad mood I'm the one that hears about it." Well, it beats flat-out lying, at least. 

He nods, but I don't think I've convinced him. Oh well. Not near the worst of my worries, so I don't worry. I did what I came here to do. 

***** 

Saturday seems to come a lot faster than usual. Maybe it's because of the way Friday flew by. Russ and I entered biology to meet up with an apoplectic Mrs. Madigan—looking even more like a mad bull than usual, which must be awful hard to do. 

"Mr. Tyler," she fairly hissed, "your suspension's been cancelled. You will serve your detention this afternoon." 

We were in a great mood for the rest of the day, and the rest of the Ducks probably thought we were crazy. Let 'em. They're all lightening up too. Slowly but surely, we're all getting more or less over the worst of the pain from Hans' death. 

Which is good, because there's no time for moping around when schoolyard puck is involved. 

Russ and I take off down the street, as fast as we can skate while carrying hockey gear. Which is probably faster than is good for us. Or anybody unlucky enough to pop out right in front of us. 

In this case, it's Goldberg. 

"Ow! Hey, why don't you guys watch where you're skating?" 

"More fun to run over you," Russ answers promptly. 

He shakes his head, tries to get up, and falls down again. Once he manages to regain his footing we set off again, at a considerably slower rate. "So have you guys heard?" he asks. "Or were you too busy gloating over making Mrs. Madigan hate you even more?" 

"We've heard lots of things," Russ cracks. "Which one're you askin' about?" 

He smirks. "Guy and Connie are back together." 

"Again?" I try to remember if I even knew they had broken up.. this time. It's impossible to try to keep track of those two. They've probably been on and off this year more times than Luis has been with someone, and _that_ is just insane. Or beyond insane. Hard to say. Maybe a better word would be ridiculous. 

"It gets better. Averman says Luis stole Riley's cheerleader." 

"And you believed him?" 

Goldberg looks uncomfortable. "Well, yeah." 

"Wait for him to get a witness," Russ advises. "And when are _you_ going to get a girlfriend, eh Goldy?" 

"As soon as you do?" 

Russ and I exchange glances and burst out laughing. 

***** 

"Watch the puck, not me!" 

Everyone tries very hard not to laugh as Guy turns bright red and turns his full attention back to the game. Just watch them break up over it. 

While Guy was not paying attention to the puck, Fulton (who luckily for him is on his team) swiped it and let loose with a cannon shot. Goldberg was smart enough to get out of the way. I think they're winning now, but I'm not keeping score. Probably nobody is. 

Russ grabs the puck and fires it up to me. I consider trying a shot on Julie, but think better of it and snap a quick pass off to Cowboy. 

That's when I see Banks. 

He wasn't here when we started—admittedly, nobody told him what time to show up, but standard Duck operating procedure is to show up at 2 if the time isn't set. It's probably around 3 now. Nobody else has noticed him, and he's just standing outside the fence watching us. He looks nervous. Who can blame him? 

I get Russ's attention. "Company." 

"Great!" His trademark grin splits his face as he waves enthusiastically to the nervous Varsity jock. "Hey Cake-eater, what're you waitin' for?" 

He shrugs and glances around. Only a few Ducks are paying any attention, and apparently he can see that they aren't preparing to kill him. He skates in. "So which team am I on?" 

***** 

Banks was eventually assigned to our team, and I'm reasonably sure that we're winning now. Not that I really think anyone cares. Julie's not even in the net... er... can... er... goal anymore, she's trying to skate. The funniest thing is, she's _scored_. Twice. 

"Hey, it's Coach Bombay!" 

_What?!_ I stop skating and look at Cowboy. Sure enough, there's Coach Bombay standing outside the fence, along with... I do a double take. Is that Captain Duck? And is he _smiling_? I look at Bombay, who grins at me. It's official, folks. The Minnesota Miracle Man has done it again. 

I want to collapse with relief... but that would get me run over. So I don't. 


End file.
